


Secrets Can Kill

by Brambleshadow_of_WindClan



Category: 21 Jump Street, NCIS
Genre: Crime, Crossover, Gen, High School Drama, Mystery, Tiva fluff, Tom/Judy fluff (maybe), Tom/Tony hurt (maybe)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-08-17
Updated: 2013-10-03
Packaged: 2017-10-22 17:50:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/240869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brambleshadow_of_WindClan/pseuds/Brambleshadow_of_WindClan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the teenage daughter of a Naval Commander is murdered, NCIS sends Tony and Ziva undercover where they run into the Jump Street gang who are working on another case. Rated T for safety.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is kinda to help you guys (and me, in case I forget) who all the characters are. If you're not familiar with 21 Jump Street but not NCIS or vice versa, this is so you can kinda get the gist of the main characters for each show.
> 
> For the time frame, NCIS is set in Season 7 and 21 Jump Street is set in 2010 and way early in Season 1, since I still have Jenko as the captain. In my little world, he never died. Besides, I like Jenko better than Fuller. Are we clear? If so, good. I'll have the story up as soon as possible.
> 
> And yes, I brought back Officer Hanson's alias from his first case. Sue me. Sadly, Waxer is not in this one . . . or Kenny . . . or Noreen . . . *sniffle* I loved the two pilot episodes and "America, What A Town." The scene where Hanson and Penhall are arresting Steve and Mark? Priceless. I crack up every time I see that. Don't know? Look it up on YouTube. Now.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the awesomeness that is NCIS and 21 Jump Street. Well, technically, I own 21 Jump Street. I just have all five seasons . . . on DVD . . . (I didn't even bother watching Season 5 after Hanson left in Season 4. What were they thinking!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> **Cast List**  
> 
> 
> **Victim**
> 
> Laura Williams—daughter of Naval Commander John Williams. Found dead in the backstage supply closet at Jefferson High School.
> 
>  
> 
> **Law Enforcement**
> 
>  
> 
> Ziva David—former Mossad liaison officer, now a NCIS Probationary Agent. Undercover role at Jefferson High: substitute English teacher (Lisa Daniels)
> 
> Anthony "Tony" DiNozzo—(Very) Special Agent with NCIS, Ziva's partner, member of Team Gibbs. Undercover role at Jefferson High: substitute gym teacher (Tommy DiNardo)
> 
> Leroy Jethro Gibbs—leader of a NCIS Major Case Response Team (MCRT)
> 
> Timothy McGee—NCIS Special Agent, member of Team Gibbs, computer geek, often helps Abby in the lab
> 
> Abby Scuito—NCIS Forensic Scientist, always wears white lab coat, black pigtails, likes listening to Brain Matter (don't ask), happiest Goth you'll ever meet
> 
> Dr. Mallard ("Ducky")—NCIS Medical Examiner (M.E.), loves giving lectures and talking to the dead
> 
> Leon Vance—Director of NCIS
> 
> Tom Hanson—undercover police officer with Jump Street program; undercover role at Jefferson High: student (Tom Bower)
> 
> Richard Jenko—captain of Jump Street program
> 
> Judy Hoffs—African-American; undercover officer with Jump Street team
> 
> Doug Penhall—undercover officer with 21 Jump Street team
> 
> Harry Truman ("H.T.") Ioki— Vietnamese; undercover officer with Jump Street unit
> 
>  
> 
> **Suspects**
> 
>  
> 
> Lauren Saunders—blonde cheerleader, very popular
> 
> Amy Bryant—captain of the girls' JV basketball team
> 
> Derek Johnson—victim's ex-boyfriend; track star

Everything was darkness, and cold. She had never been so cold. She weakly pounded the sides of the container, hoping someone would hear her. "Help! Can anyone hear me?" she yelled, trying to pound even harder. The young teenager didn't hear anyone coming. Did they even know she was here?

Then she remembered her cell phone. She pulled it out and dialed a number her dad had told her to call if she was ever in danger. The phone rang and rang, and then someone picked up.

"Hello?"

"This is Laura Williams, Commander Williams's daughter. I can't breathe; I think someone's trying to kill me."

"Where are you?"

"Backstage at Jefferson High School. I'm in some kind of box." Her voice grew weaker, then finally died. Her hand went limp, and the phone clattered to the floor. Her body followed a heartbeat later.

~*~*~*~

Officer Tom Hanson, undercover at the school as Tom Bower, skidded to a halt as he looked around in the semidarkness for his quarry. He had been assigned to Jefferson High to solve a rape/murder case, and had a fairly good idea who the perp was. Sadly, the guy had spotted him and ran—and Hanson had just lost him.

The twenty-one-year-old cop silently cursed his bad luck and scanned the auditorium once more. He didn't see anything and turned to leave, but paused when he heard a thud coming from backstage.

Tom drew his weapon and stole through the darkness to the source of the sound. He nearly stumbled as his foot caught something—something soft and limp. Regaining his balance, he saw it was an arm—that was attached to a body. Worse, he recognized the vic. Her long brown hair covered her face, but even so, Hanson was able to ID her.

He pulled out his phone and dialed the office. When Jenko picked up, Hanson didn't wait for an introduction. "Boss, we have another body. This one's Laura Williams."

"Isn't she the daughter of that Navy Commander or whatever?"

"Yep."

Hanson couldn't see the captain of the undercover Jump Street program, but he knew Jenko well enough to picture his boss sighing as he ran a hand through long, stringy black hair. "You know this vic isn't our jurisdiction, Hanson."

"Whose is it?"

"Just let me make some calls." Captain Richard Jenko hung up without another word.

~*~*~*~

At NCIS headquarters, Special Agents Timothy McGee, Ziva David, and Anthony "Tony" DiNozzo were sitting at their desks. McGee was surfing the Net, Ziva was listening to some music on her iPod, and Tony was staring at Ziva while reading a magazine.

"See something you like, Tony?" the probie teased, leaning back and resting her legs on her desk.

"Uh, well, I—"

"Gear up," the team's boss, Leroy Jethro Gibbs, said, rounding the corner with his ever-present cup of coffee in hand.

Immediately they scrambled to grab their SIGs, bags, and shields. Tony asked, "What do we got, boss?"

Instead of answering with words, he motioned for his team to follow him up the stairs to Director Vance's office. Exchanging confused glances, DiNozzo, McGee, and David followed, wondering when they were going to be able to arrive at the crime scene.

Cynthia saw the four field agents coming and buzzed them in.

Vance was sitting behind his desk, toothpick as usual in his mouth. "Sit down," he ordered once the door was safely closed.

Warily, Team Gibbs did as directed. Tim asked the question that was on all of their minds: "What's this about, Director?"

"Naval Commander John Williams's daughter was found dead at Jefferson High School this afternoon. We're sending in Tony and Ziva undercover to investigate while the rest of you will be providing backup here in D.C.," Leon Vance replied.

"But, Director," Tony interrupted, "honestly, do we look young enough to be in high school?"

"You have it down personality-wise," Ziva muttered, earning a dark look from her partner.

Vance ignored Ziva's comment and, with a small smile, said, "You two are going in as substitute teachers. Everything you need to know is in here"—he handed the two agents a couple of folders—"and be sure to hop on the most recent flight to Washington State. You guys are going across country."

Without waiting for the dismissal, Gibbs rose and strode for the door, his team behind him. As the door closed, the Director could hear Tony moan, "Why am I having a flashback to a very bad episode of _Charlie's Angels_?"


	2. Chapter 2

Back at Jump Street Chapel, Hanson was finishing writing up his report for Jenko—and griping about the situation to his partner and best friend: Doug Penhall. The other undercover officers, Judy Hoffs and H.T. Ioki, were out in the field on a case of their own. Which was where Penhall should be as well, but he also had to file a report.

Doug's eyes were sort of glazing over, although whether that was from the paperwork or listening to his best friend rant on and on, he wasn't sure.

Jenko looked up from his desk through the open door, and smiled slightly as he watched his two officers. Though Hanson was relatively new to the team, he had managed to bust a major dealer who was squeezing a kid named Waxer, who in turn was working a fellow high school student named Kenny Whekerly over on a cocaine payroll all within his first week of transferring to the undercover program. Jenk called out, "Hey, Penhall, you got that report for me yet?"

Doug jumped, startled, and hastily scrawled a few more lines before leaping up and walking over to his captain's office. He handed it to the hang-on hippie and bolted, eager to be back in the field.

Hanson watched him go before announcing, "See ya, Captain."

"How many times do I have to tell you to not call me Captain, sport?" Jenko fired back.

Tom just smirked and headed out to his blue '68 Mustang, wanting to be back on the case. All the while, he was mulling over how to make an arrest on the original case.

* * *

Meanwhile, Tony and Ziva were just retrieving their luggage, as small as it was, and heading over to their separate safe houses. DiNozzo would be going undercover as a P.E. teacher, and Ziva would be an English teacher. Tony had a feeling everyone would get a kick out of that, knowing how bad her Ziva-isms could be.

"So, you ready?" Tony asked his partner, not sure why he was asking.

"Yeah," Ziva replied, rummaging around in her bag for her backup weapons. She found them and pulled out her SIG, ankle weapon, and knife and strapped them on.

"You do know what the term 'undercover' means, right, Zi?"

"Well, a student was murdered, Tony. And besides, this school supposedly has a major drug trafficking and arms dealing problem."

"That still doesn't mean we go in armed!"

She just opened the door to her alias's house and shot him a pointed look. "You handle it your way, I'll handle it mine."

"Yes'm." He knew better than to provoke her when she was like this. "Did Vance have any suspects?"

She paused in the doorway. "Not that I know of. If he does, he didn't tell me."

"Odd."

"Good night, DiNozzo." Ziva entered and shut the door in his face.

"Night to you too," he muttered, turning and walking down the steps to "his" house next door.

* * *

Director Vance was on the phone listening intently to the person on the other line. " . . . I understand, Captain Jenko. My agents don't know about your undercover program—or that you already have a man on the inside."

"Why didn't you tell them?" Jenko asked, voice suddenly sharp. "Hanson doesn't look old enough to be a cop; you know that."

"Well, that's the point, isn't it? Look, I'll have them meet your team at the chapel tomorrow when school lets out. That work?"

"Yeah. Good night, Director."

"Evening, Captain."

Hanging up, Vance rubbed a hand across his forehead wearily, trying to soothe his sudden headache. _I need sleep. Working all night isn't gonna do anything to help run this agency. Gibbs probably isn't happy that I'm sending his two agents across the country without him to provide backup, but they can take care of themselves—I hope._


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, Hanson pulled up in the school's parking lot, surprised to see two new cars there. Shrugging, he stepped out of the blue Mustang and headed up the front steps, raising a hand in greeting to a couple kids from his English class. They nodded in return, then continued climbing and entered the hallway. Tom followed, heading to his locker before English.

When he entered, he was surprised to find the usual teacher wasn't there. Instead, it was a woman in her mid-twenties, who looked Israeli. Hanson could feel a smirk creeping across his face. Oh, this was gonna be good.

The sub finished writing her name on the whiteboard (Lisa Daniels) and turned to face the AP English class. "As most of you probably know or have guessed by now, I'm your substitute English teacher." Tom could detect a slight Israeli accent, so he'd been correct on her nationality. "Please turn in your homework assignments from last night."

The entire class groaned, but did as she said. After that, they took roll and notes on the reading of The Highwayman by Alfred Noyes. When there were ten minutes left in class, Lisa Daniels drew a sentence diagram on the SMART board and filled it in.

"Now, which one of you can tell me why we diagram a sentence?" She scanned the room, her eyes settling on a male student that had fallen asleep. "Mr."—she checked the roster—"Henderson?"

The kid jerked awake with a snort. "Huh?"

"Glad to hear you join us."

"I think you mean 'see'," Hanson corrected, raising his hand. Whose bright idea was it to have an Israeli teaching English?

"Oh, right. Sorry, American idioms drive me up the hall."

"Up the wall," everyone chorused.

Ms. Daniels sighed. "Forget it. Now, Henderson, could you answer the question."

"So you can learn how to draw celery?" the sleepy teen answered uncertainly, voice groggy.

There were a few laughs at that. Even the sub had to smile. "Uh, no. Anyone else?"

The girl sitting diagonally from Hanson took advantage of the momentary distraction to toss him a note. He snagged it in midair and opened it, keeping one eye on the sub. The undercover cop wasn't sure why, but he had a feeling he wasn't the only one now working this case. What he wasn't sure on now was which case to solve: the original murder/rape or the new homicide investigation. Ah, well. For now he'd go with the original case and hold back on the new one, in case they were linked. He didn't have much of a chance to read the note before Daniels noticed. "I'll see that, Mr. Bower."

"Hey, come on, it's personal," he protested, seriously hoping she wouldn't go there.

"Then read it aloud," she said, gesturing around the class. "I'm sure everyone here is—how do you say?—breathless with interest, concerning your liaison."

How did she know about that? Hanson thought. Still, he complied. Ab-libbing, he said, "Tom, I hope you're enjoying her lecture on diagramming sentences as much as I am. If you need any study help, I'll be glad to—"

The Israeli snatched the note and read, "Hi. My name's Amy and I love to party." The class laughed. "If you have a car, meet me after school and show me where it's at."

Hanson was having a serious case of déjà vu, mostly because this had happened when he was over at Emhurst a couple of weeks before. _I hate karma._

Meanwhile, the sub had folded up the note and was looking at Amy with amused brown eyes. The girl, who had curly black hair, blue eyes, Caucasian skin, a black T-shirt with _Heart_ scrawled across the front, and jeans, shrugged and glanced around. Ms. Daniels said, "Very well written, but try not to end the sentence with a preposition. Help her out, Bower."

Hanson grinned. "Okay." He leaned over and pointed out the window. "It's in the student lot, a blue '68 Mustang, parked over—"

Again, there was much laughter. The sub frowned slightly. "With the grammatical problem in the sentence, genius. For example, since you're relatively new here, if I were to ask where the cafeteria's at? How would I ask it properly? By the way, I could easily kill you 100 different ways with that pencil there."

Tom gulped. _Who_ is _this chick?_ Still, he smirked and answered, "Where's the cafeteria at . . . schmo?" Much laughter. The sub gave him the evil eye.

Thank God the bell rang just then. Everyone gathered up their textbooks, notebooks, and backpacks and bolted for the door. As Tom left, he could feel the sub's eyes boring into his back. He turned, but she was busy flipping through a three-ring binder. The undercover officer shrugged and went to his next class.

* * *

By the time gym rolled around, "Tom Bower" had loads of homework and almost no intel on the rape/homicide case. When he entered the gym via exiting the locker room, he was surprised to find another sub, this one with medium-length brown hair and green eyes. He was dressed in warm-up sweats and running shoes, and had a whistle around his neck. Oh, yeah, he also carried a clipboard.

Now Hanson was starting to become suspicious. Honestly, what were the odds of having two subs in one day? Had another department decided to put a couple of their own in? Then he remembered what Jenko had said about the death of Laura Williams not being their jurisdiction. That didn't necessarily mean this guy was undercover, right?

"Hey, Bower!" the substitute gym coach called. "You awake? I called for everyone to circle up."

"Oh, sorry, man," Hanson said, quickly moving over to join the rest of the class. He sat down and looked up at the new teacher.

"Ok, for those of you who haven't heard, I'm Tommy DiNardo. Your coach has fallen ill and might be out for a couple of weeks. So they put me in here. Don't expect me to be happy about it."

Tom snorted. Considering the looks DiNardo was getting from some of the girls, he was happy about this assignment. The guy was probably too old for them anyway. Then again, so was he.

". . . Today, we're playing soccer. So let's warm up—two laps around the track—no complaining," he added when some kids groaned, "and then stretch. After that, we'll see what I want you to do."

"Coach, this isn't soccer practice," one boy—Hanson thought it was Derek Johnson, Williams's ex-boyfriend—complained.

"Really? From what I've heard, you run two laps for a warm-up in track," the coach retorted. "Now, let's go everyone."

Hanson jogged after everyone, tailing back behind so he could talk to the sub. "Have you heard what happened yesterday?"

"No, what?"

"A girl was murdered. From what the rumor mills have been saying, it was maybe over drugs, a love triangle, I dunno. Some of us have started carrying weapons—as well as a few teachers. Just thought I'd let you know, considering you're new here and all."

The coach looked at him with narrowed eyes. "Aren't you a transfer student?"

"Yeah, Tom Bower. I transferred over from Wilcox three weeks ago. And FYI, I don't play a lot of sports."

"Then why are you in this class?"

Good question. Without replying, he picked up the pace and ran up the slight hill to the track to join his classmates.

After stretching, DiNardo had them run through some basic drills—not that he had a clue about what he was doing. It didn't help that Hanson and a few of the soccer kids kept having to correct him, much to the sub's irritation.

The endless movie quotes were also getting on Hanson's nerves. Finally, he snapped. "You know, this is high school, not one of your dumb movies!"

DiNardo looked offended.

One of "Bower's" classmates whispered, "I don't think he's ever really left high school, man."

"No, really?" he replied sarcastically, aiming a kick at the student across from him. Of course, the ball missed and ended up hitting the sub in the face.

_Oops._

"Bower . . ." DiNardo started with an evil look on his face. "Principal's office. _Now."_

As Hanson sullenly marched back inside, he thought, _Jenk is going to_ love _this._


	4. Chapter 4

Hanson sat sullenly in the chair facing the principal's desk, arms crossed. With his messy brown hair in his eyes, brown leather jacket, and worn jeans, he certainly looked defiant—which was the look he was going for at the moment, to be honest. He actually liked this cover, believe it or not, considering he was usually a law-abiding citizen.

The principal looked at him shrewdly, sizing him up, Tom figured. At last, he said, "What are you in here for, Mr. Bower?"

Well, Hanson sure wasn't expecting that question. Thinking fast, he smirked. "Don't you know already?"

"Yeah. You don't have a real impressive completion record, Tom. Real attitude, and"—he pulled out Tom's student file—"there's something in here about a quitting problem."

Hanson rolled his eyes. "You're beginning to sound like Jake Schafer, you know that?"

Principal John Greene narrowed his eyes. "I know Emhurst's principal well, Bower. Don't try anything funny while you're in here. Otherwise I might have to—" He broke off when there was a knock at his door. Both the undercover officer and the high school principal looked towards the door as it opened and the substitute gym teacher stuck his head in. "You wanted to see me?"

Tom bit back a groan. Not this guy again. Already, he'd had enough of him for one day. _No one_ could be that perky about teaching gym—not even Penhall or Ioki.

"Actually, yes," Principal Greene said. "Sit down, Mr. DiNardo."

"I'd really rather not."

"Fine. Stand, then. I really don't care."

Hanson couldn't help but duck his head to hide his smirk. Somehow, he suddenly found the situation funny. Since when were a student and teacher in the principal's office at the same time? He didn't get a further chance to reflect, since the principal got right down to business.

"DiNardo, why don't you tell me what happened from your point of view?"

Flashing a quick glance at Hanson, the sub said, "I was just, er, making a movie reference—"

"He's been doing that all hour," the undercover cop muttered.

"—when the next thing I know, a soccer ball hits me in the face. I thought Bower here had either kicked it on purpose—"

"Would I really do that?" Hanson asked, looking up innocently at the older guys. At a glare from the principal, he returned his attention to the section of the desk in front of him, eyes already snooping around. Leave Hanson—or any cop or P.I.—alone in a room for ten or fifteen minutes unsupervised, and he was bound to snoop. He really couldn't help it. It was an almost automatic habit of his.

"Yes, you would," the principal said before inclining his head to DiNardo. "Please continue."

"Thanks for the permission," he said dryly. "That's it, really." Tony didn't know why he was covering for the kid, but something about him seemed off. His investigator's sense was tingling, yet he couldn't put his finger on what was bothering him about Tom Bower. It might turn out to be nothing, but he decided to run a background check on him anyway.

"Now you, Bower," Greene said, his tone clear he didn't trust the senior.

"It happened just as Coach here reported," Hanson said. "See ya later." He started to leave but was stopped by Principal Greene saying, "You take one more step and I'll give you detention for a week."

Tom took one more step toward the door, opened it, and walked out, not caring about the consequences. Besides, he had a case to solve.

* * *

Tony DiNozzo left the principal's office soon after the rebellious teen. He made a note to himself to come back after dark, with Ziva, so they could check out the crime scene. For some reason, they hadn't done that yet.

Making his way back to the locker room, where the class was waiting, he began humming "Beat It" under his breath. Thinking about Bower's behavior, he wasn't sure what about the kid had set him off. The senior field agent would have to find out later.

* * *

After school had let out, Tom returned to the chapel to debrief Jenko, even if the captain hated procedure. The hang-on hippie said it sounded Republican or something. Of course, Tom was a Republican, as he'd pointed out. Go figure.

When he entered the main room, the first thing he saw was the rest of the unit—Harry Ioki, Doug Penhall, and Judy Hoffs—trying not to look anywhere but at the furious captain.

Jenko said, "Hanson, do you want to tell me what happened at school today?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the very long haitus, but this story is officially off it, even if I have a couple side projects I'm working on. I've been working on this chapter basically all afternoon and I've just finished it, mostly because I keep getting distracted.

Hanson swallowed nervously. "What do you mean, Jenk?"

" _Detention_? Really, Hanson, I thought you'd learned by now not to get into too much trouble!"

"Jenko, it's not even my fault! We were in gym class playing soccer. I kicked the ball and it accidentally hit the sub in the nose."

"Were you _aiming_ for the sub?"

"No! Captain—"

"How many times do I have to tell you _not_ to call me Captain?" Jenko snapped.

Hanson opened his mouth for a furious retort, but Judy stepped forward before he could say anything. The female officer said, "Hey, why don't we all just calm down? Jenk, Hanson explained to you why he was in Detention in the first place. Hanson, you don't need to be so defensive."

Tom—not to mention Harry and Doug—just stared at her. Doug voiced the question that was all three guys' minds: "Are you sure you've never been to a shrink?"

"Oh, can it, Penhall." Judy turned away, but not before Tom caught the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Jealousy reared its ugly head, but he forced it down. He wondered, _Why am I even feeling this way? It's not like there's anything between me and Judy, right?_

 _Wrong,_ a little voice replied.

_Oh, great. Now I start hearing voices. What's next—a straitjacket?_

_Maybe._

_GET OUT OF MY HEAD!_

Thankfully, the voice left. Only then did Tom realize that Jenko was looking at him like he was waiting for an answer. The rookie said, "What?"

"I, uh, wanted to apologize, Hanson. And there's something I haven't told you guys yet."

The entire team was at attention at once, scrabbling for their seats at the long table they used for meetings. All four of them turned their expectant gazes to their captain, who sighed and ran a hand through his stringy black hair before saying, "Hanson, another agency has put two of its agents undercover to help out with our second case."

" _What_?!" Tom practically shrieked in what he later would swear was a manly voice.

"Remember when I told you that the Williams case wasn't our jurisdiction, Hanson?"

"Oh, yeah. Right. You never answered me when I asked whose jurisdiction it was, Jenk."

Jenko hesitated. "This case belongs to NCIS."

"Huh?" Doug and Harry asked at the same time.

"It stands for Naval Criminal Investigative Service," Jenko explained.

"Great," Tom muttered. "Navy cops."

"Federal agents," Jenko corrected.

"Whatever." Tom rose from his seat, snagged an apple from the basket of fruit in the middle of the table, and left. Right now, he just wanted to go home, relax, watch a movie or two. Certainly not think about the new case, or how he was going to catch the suspect on his original murder/rape, or the fact there were probably two NCIS agents in town.

Of course, he ended up thinking about it anyway. So he wasn't all that surprised to find himself heading back to the high school around ten thirty at night.

Somehow, he didn't expect to find someone else there.

* * *

"Tony, I can't believe I let you talk me into doing this," Ziva hissed, glancing around before she followed him into the deserted school.

"Come on, Ziva. We needed to look at the crime scene anyway."

Ziva pulled a face at him then walked straight past him, taking the lead. DiNozzo took a moment just to watch her stride, the sway of her hips—she was going to be the death of him one day, because he was sure she knew just what she did to him—and allowed himself a brief fantasy.

"DiNozzo!"

Tony shook himself out of his thoughts and jogged after her. "The body was found in the auditorium, right?"

"Backstage," Ziva confirmed, already heading in the direction of the theatre. Tony, not wanting to risk anything happening to his little DiNozzo makers, kept on her three. He glanced around the dark auditorium, waiting for his eyes to adjust. When they did, he walked down the far left aisle and through the black curtain that lead backstage.

Ziva suddenly froze and whipped around, her eyes scanning the entire backstage area.

"What is it?" Tony asked, alert at once.

"I heard something."

"And what do your astute, ninja Mossad senses tell you it is?" Tony couldn't keep the playful, teasing note from his voice.

"Human."

Tony caught sight of a dark figure darting into the shop from the corner of his eye. It looked vaguely familiar . . .

Ziva darted after the figure, unsheathing a knife from her boot—all on the run. Tony was actually impressed. He certainly couldn't do that, and everyone knew McGee couldn't. Gibbs was probably the only one in the team besides Ziva who could draw a weapon on the run. She yelled, "Federal agent! Freeze!"

DiNozzo groaned inwardly. _Great job blowing our cover, Zi._

The figure Ziva was chasing instantly stopped in his tracks—but since he'd reached a dead end and the shop wasn't all that big anyway and filled with all sorts of set pieces from past plays, it wasn't hard to do so. Tony skidded to a halt next to Ziva, panting, and froze when he saw it was Tom Bower. "You!"

"Yeah, me," Tom replied. "What are you guys doing here?"

"Looking for whoever might have killed Laura Williams," Tony said. He winced when Ziva elbowed him in the gut. "I mean, uh—"

"What are you doing here?" Ziva demanded, fingering her knife almost lovingly.

"Same thing you are," Tom said. "You're federal agents, right? Well"—he reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out his ID, flashed his badge—"I'm a cop."

 _Whoa,_ Tony thought. _I sure wasn't expecting_ that.


	6. Chapter 6

"A cop?" Tony and Ziva repeated in unison, identical stunned expressions on their faces. The Israeli added, "You don't look old enough to be one."

Tom gave a half-smile. "Yeah, that's why I get these sort of assignments. I'm not supposed to look like a cop. And since Lisa Daniels and Tommy DiNardo are clearly aliases—straight out of _Deep Six_ , seriously?—what are your real names?"

"Tony DiNozzo and Ziva David, NCIS," Tony answered, while Ziva muttered, "That's it. I am going to _kill_ McGee when we're back in D.C."

"McGee?" Tom asked, puzzled.

"You probably know him as Thom E. Gemcity," Tony explained. "Real name's Timothy McGeek. Well, not really, but I like to call him that. Anyway, the _Deep Six_ novels are based on our NCIS team—and we never let him forget it," he added with an evil grin.

 _Thwack!_ "Shut up, DiNozzo."

"What have I said about the Gibbs-slaps, David?"

Ziva just smirked and rolled her eyes before returning her attention to the undercover officer. "Who are you?"

"Officer Tom Hanson, Jump Street."

"Jump Street?" the NCIS agents echoed.

Tom frowned. "You don't know about us? Funny, 'cause the FBI does."

Tony and Ziva exchanged glances. The senior field agent said, "This FBI agent wouldn't happen to be Tobias Fornell, would it?"

"No. The guy we've dealt with is Spencer Phillips."

"I wonder if they know each other," Ziva mused.

The guys exchanged mischievous smiles. Hanson said, "We can always call and find out."

"I like the way you think," Tony grinned. "Let's just do it later."

"Sounds good. What exactly were you hoping to find here? I'm the one who found her body and I don't even know what forensics or the medical examiner found."

"The body was sent to our people in the Navy Yard, I think," Ziva said. "Where did you find Laura Williams?"

Tom cast his mind back, picturing the scene. "I'm actually here to solve a rape-homicide. I was chasing the perpetrator but lost him around here. When I came up to the stage and started to go around back, my foot touched her arm. I'd heard a thud coming from backstage just when I entered, and no, I didn't see anyone. I didn't hear a gunshot either. If the killer used a silencer, though, I wouldn't have heard anything anyway."

"We don't know the cause of death yet," Tony reluctantly admitted. "Neither Ducky—that's our ME—or Gibbs—our team leader—have called us yet."

"Sounds like it's time for you to check in, then. If you guys want to come by the Chapel tomorrow before school, Captain Jenko can probably help."

"The Chapel?" Ziva asked.

"Sorry, uh, my undercover unit works out of an abandoned chapel on the corner of Jump Street and 6th. The address is 21 Jump Street, obviously."

All Tony could think during this was, _So much for running a background check on Tom Bower. It probably wouldn't have done any good—especially since he's telling us all this now._

"We'll be there," Ziva said, breaking Tony's train of thought. "Let's go, DiNozzo."

The senior field agent gave the undercover cop one more smirk before he turned and followed the former Mossad liaison. Once he was out of earshot, Tony pulled out his cell and called Gibbs.

* * *

Leroy Jethro Gibbs was pulling an all-nighter at his desk, draining his fifth cup of coffee in as many hours, when his phone rang. He picked it up, automatically answering, "Gibbs."

"Boss." That was DiNozzo's voice. "We may have a problem."

"What?" the former Marine snapped out.

"You know Tom Bower, one of our possible suspects?"

"Yeah. What about him, DiNozzo?"

"You're not going to believe this, but he's a cop."

Coffee went down the wrong pipe. Gibbs coughed hard, swallowed when the coughing fit subsided.

"You okay, Boss?" Tony asked in concern.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Coffee went down the wrong way. You're sure he's a cop?"

"Uh-huh. Real name's Tom Hanson. He's part of a secret undercover unit that the FBI apparently knows about. How come we don't?"

"We do now," said Gibbs, though he suspected there was at least one person in NCIS who knew about this top-secret undercover program.

"Hey, Boss, do you have anything on our victim?" Tony's voice brought him back to the present.

"I'll email you Ducky's autopsy report as soon as I can, DiNozzo. Later." He hung up before the senior field agent could so much as say, "Bye."

Director Vance, he knew, was still in his office. Gibbs would have seen him exit the building if he'd left. So it was fortunate for him that the director was still at NCIS—and unfortunate for Vance.

Gibbs stalked up the stairs and down the catwalk, heading straight for Vance's office. He _hated_ being left in the dark in any area of an investigation; Vance should have known better than to hold back information.

The ex-Marine breezed through the chrome-plated doors without bothering to knock.

Vance, without looking up, said to no one in particular, "Sometimes I wonder why I even have a door." _Then_ he looked up. "Yes, Gibbs?"

"How come you never told us that there's an undercover cop at Jefferson?" Gibbs practically snarled.

"I know his captain. Jenko's a good friend of mine, and I told him our cases weren't connected. Besides, this is a secret program, Gibbs. No one on the Metropilitian police force knows about it except silver shields and up."

"The FBI knows about it," Gibbs pointed out.

Vance muttered, "Somehow, I'm not surprised."

There was a pause before Gibbs asked, "What exactly does this undercover unit do?"

"Jenko takes younger-looking officers—at least, the ones the department thinks can handle the pressure—and teaches them how to be teenagers again. Then they're sent off to various high schools where a good man is needed undercover. There's only four officers in the program right now," Vance explained.

Gibbs merely raised one eyebrow. "Basically they're kiddie cops."

Vance shrugged. "They've solved homicides, rape cases, drug dealings, hate crimes, arson, and taken down a couple pornography rings, so I wouldn't say they're kids, Gibbs." He smiled a little. "Somehow I have a feeling DiNozzo and Officer Penhall are going to hit it off really well."

"Why's that?"

"Similar interests."

"Ah." A rare half-smile crossed Gibbs's face. "Should I be worried?"

"Maybe." Vance stood up and reached for his coat. "I'd better be heading home. Jackie's going to kill me if I'm home any later."

"Night, Director," Gibbs said, taking the hint as he turned and walked out of Vance's office. Now that he thought about it, he needed some sleep as well. Besides, he was busy working on his next boat. (It was halfway done.) Remembering his team's curiosity as to how his boats left the basement of his house—a secret he'd sworn never to reveal—he chuckled a little.

This case looked like it was going to be interesting.


End file.
